


Playing with Fire

by Weebles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Loss of Parent(s), Lotura - Freeform, Normal levels of Parent/Child bickering, Rating will change, Things will get hot and spicy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 22:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17775719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weebles/pseuds/Weebles
Summary: “Thank you once again for inviting us, Emperor Zarkon.” She said as she straightened, the words genuine rather than merely polite etiquette.  “I am truly looking forward to seeing the festival tomorrow!”“Indeed!” Alfor expounded, “In all the years I have known you I do not believe I have heard you ever mention something called the Unald Gal.““Unalt.Unalt Gal.”  Allura corrected quietly from the side as her father shot her a look of both amusement and frustration.  Zarkon laughed quietly at them.“I can see at least one of you has been practicing.”  He lightly admonished his long-time comrade.------An AU in which Allura gets more than just a front row seat when she and her father are invited to Daibazaal to observe a rare Galra holiday that celebrates the union of fire, blood and clans.





	Playing with Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trickster_1996](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster_1996/gifts).



> Hello Trickster! I hope you like this! I took the idea of a Spring Tradition and ran with it, making up a Galra Holiday. I apologize that it isn't the whole story, but in order to do it justice I've had to split it up into chapters.
> 
> A Note on the Reality - this takes place in a reality similar to the one in s8, but it is not the same one. Also Lotor and Allura are closer in age, only three years apart.

Allura adjusted her grip on the controls of the shuttle as she guided it down into the planet’s atmosphere.  A shudder wracked the ship as it was buffeted by the winds and she touched a command on the screen before her to adapt to the wind’s interfering presence.  A frown creased her brow as she tightened her grip on the controls; she could feel the gusts fight her for control of the shuttle.

“You are doing wonderful, Allura.” Her father’s gentle voice reassured her from the seat next to her.  She couldn’t help the small smile on her face as she cast a thankful look in his direction.

“Of course she is!”  Coran’s voice rose up from a seat behind the two royals.  “She’s been piloting the castle for over half her life!  This little shuttle is nothing.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate your belief in my abilities Coran,” she replied, “But piloting the castle in space is a bit different then piloting a small shuttle in an atmosphere that contains winds as strong as Daibazaal’s.”

“She is right,” Alfor replied. “The environment does make it more of a challenge but you are doing splendid nonetheless, Daughter.”

She grinned as she slowed their speed as the shuttle approached the castle in the center of Daibazaal’s capital city.  Her grin faltered when she began to make out the rather large group of Galra waiting along the landing platform’s edge for their arrival – including the unmistakable figure of the Emperor.  Suddenly, her palms felt sweaty around the control sticks with nerves. 

“I still say that she has no need to worry.  Allura can master anything that she sets her mind to!  Unless,”  Allura’s ears pricked with awareness, suddenly wary of the direction of the conversation and Coran’s teasing lilt.  “Unless there is another reason for you to be nervous Princess?  Perhaps it has something to do with seeing a certain Crown Prince again?”  She could practically hear Coran twirling one edge of his infamous mustache.

The entire ship jerked to the side as Allura craned her head around to glare at the man behind her.

“Coran!” She scolded, reddening as she father chuckled, even as she turned back and jerked the ship back into a level descent.  “I should have never told you about that.  We were children!”

“That’s enough of that.” Her father admonished the two of them light-heartedly.  “It was deca-phoebs ago.  And a kiss on the cheek for good luck between two friends, thirteen and ten deca-phoebs old respectively, isn’t exactly scandalous.”

Allura could feel her cheeks burning in embarrassment as she dropped the shuttle’s landing gear and began the landing sequence for their final descent.

“It has been ten deca-phoebs,” she muttered under her breath, refocusing on landing the shuttle with no further hiccups.  “I seriously doubt he even remembers it.”

The shuttle finally landed on its platform, the display screens showing a fine red cloud of dust flying up around the ship before it was caught by the brisk winds and carried away.

“Perfect!”  Alfor congratulated, a wide grin on his face beneath his beard.  “Well done!  Even with distractions from both without and within.”

Allura shot him a look before she glared at Coran. “Is _that_ why you brought up the kiss?  To distract me?” she demanded, scandalized.

“Don’t look at me,” the steward grinned at her as he shrugged, “It was your father’s idea.”

“It was merely a little test Allura.  And you did splendidly.” Alfor said soothingly, hoping the praise would unruffle her feathers.

She huffed at both of them as she unbuckled herself from her safety harness and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at both of the males equally.

“Honestly, both of you are horrible.” She hissed at them half-heartedly, causing both men to chuckle.

The sun was dropping behind the high walls of the cliffs that hedged around Daibazaal’s capital city as they descended from their shuttle.  Zarkon stood before them, waiting with a small entourage of soldiers and some officials from within his court. He looked as formal and regal as ever in his armor but Allura could see the slight smile on his face at the sight of his old friend.  The Emperor’s cape billowed behind him as he approached the Alteans, the fabric caught in Daibazaal’s near constant breeze.  The smile on his face grew as he reached out with one long arm, clasping her father’s outreached forearm in a traditional greeting.

“Welcome my friend!” the Galra greeted the Altean King.  “I trust you had a safe journey?”

“As always,” Alfor replied with a smile of his own as the two released one another’s arms before he turned her way with a gesture, “Of course with Allura doing most of the flying and Coran as company, how can any trip be unpleasant?” 

When the Emperor’s attention turned her way, Allura grasped the fabric of her skirts and curtsied politely; she could see Coran’s matching bow out of the corner of her eye.

“Thank you once again for inviting us, Emperor Zarkon.” She said as she straightened, the words genuine rather than merely polite etiquette.  “I am truly looking forward to seeing the festival tomorrow!”

“Indeed!” Alfor expounded, “In all the years I have known you I do not believe I have heard you ever mention something called the Unald Gal.“

“Unal _t_.  Unalt Gal.”  Allura corrected quietly from the side as her father shot her a look of both amusement and frustration.  Zarkon laughed quietly at them.

“I can see at least one of you has been practicing.”  He lightly admonished his long-time comrade.   “The Unalt Gal is a fairly rare event.  Every 73 deca-phoebs Daibazaal’s vernal equinox occurs at the same time as the planet’s orbit passes through the Krevnat asteroid belt.   It marks the anniversary of an important event in our history as well as causing a rather impressive meteor shower.”

“Do you think the weather will be favorable for seeing the meteor shower?”  Allura asked as she eyed the swift moving clouds that danced along the horizon.  Zarkon nodded,

“If our predictions are correct then the skies should be clear for tomorrow evening.”

The wind rose once more and the strength of it caught Allura off guard as it pushed at her back, forcing her to take a small step in order to keep her balance.  The action was not missed by Galra Emperor.

“Come, let us continue this inside; although we should see a brief lull in the winds tomorrow evening, they will only get stronger as the temperatures warm with the season.  Some light refreshments have also been prepared for your arrival.”  He made a small gesture and several Galra moved towards the shuttle.  “The servants will see that your luggage is taken to your chambers.” 

“Very kind, thank you.” Alfor responded and began to turn to his left, where Allura’s mother had always stood beside him; he managed to stop himself before completing the turn, however his smile dropping from his face before he recovered.  Allura noted the sadness in his eyes and felt it echoed in her own heart; her mother’s passing had left her with an inexplicable ache.  She could only imagine how much more difficult it was for him.  Though it had been just over a year since Melenor’s passing, the loss still haunted them both. 

Seeing her father lost in his thoughts, Allura pushed away her own hurt and stepped closer, tucking a hand into the corner of his elbow.  The sensation jolted him from his far away thoughts and when he turned is attention to her,  “Would you do me the honor of escorting me, Father?”  She asked with a lightness that she did not truly feel.

“Of course, my Daughter.” He smiled gratefully at her.  “The honor is mine.” She returned his smile as his hand covered hers and they began to walk.  The two of them moved alongside the Emperor, with Coran a few steps behind as they traversed the long walkway that linked the landing platform to the  palace.  Allura paid little mind to the conversation between the two rulers, and instead decided to study and take in their surroundings as they walk into the large, foreboding structure.

Although it had been deca-phoebs since she had last been there, Allura found the burgundy and terra cotta colored walls with their purple lighting vaguely familiar.  The wide halls were bustling with noise and activity; servants, denoted by their uniforms, as well as other individuals that she could not place were rushing about, preparing for the impending festivities.  However no matter how busy, they all stopped what they were doing and pushed themselves to the sides of the halls, bowing as the royal group walked by and just as quickly returning to their activities once they had passed.

After several doboshes of walking, they finally entered the guest wing of the palace; Allura found the sudden absence of noise and commotion after the main corridors almost disorienting.  Once through a set of doors they entered what looked to be an indoor courtyard with high ceiling and a fountain sporting a tall oval sculpture in its center. _‘This,_ ’ she thought to herself fondly, _‘This I remember._ ’  Allura separated from her father, who was talking animatedly with Zarkon – something about the Red Lion wanting to upstage the others – and made her way to the fountain.  Feeling some of the tension from the trip ease at the sounds of the trickling water, she sank down on to wide edge with a relaxed sigh. 

“Princess?”  Coran’s voice broke her reprieve after a few moments and Allura blinked up at him.  “Would you like something to eat or drink?”  He asked, gesturing to a sideboard lined with an assortment of various fruits, finger foods and decanters of drink.  No doubt the refreshments that Zarkon had mentioned earlier.

“Ooh, a drink sounds lovely.” She made to get up but was immediately halted by Coran’s fluttering hand.  “Coran, I can get-”

“Pish-posh!” the Steward halted her protest.  “You stay right there, I’ll be back in just a tick.”

Allura let her fingers trail along the water’s surface as she waited for Coran to return with her drink.  What had been the last time she had visited Daibazaal?  Twelve deca-phoebs?  Fourteen?  She couldn’t remember anymore.

Coran returned once more and Allura gratefully took a sip of  her drink, enjoying the coolness of it as it coated her tongue.

“You know Zarkon,” she heard her father say as he jokingly peered around his fellow ruler as if looking for someone.  “I can’t help but feel like you are missing someone.”

The towering Galra sighed in a what Allura had learned was a _distinctly_ parental fashion.

“My son has been delayed-”

“ _Was_ delayed.” A honeyed voice interrupted the Emperor, pulling the attention of the room to the now closing entrance.  Allura blinked.  Twice.

There was no doubt in her mind that the man that now strode toward them was Lotor, the resemblance was impossible to mistake.  However when she had last seen the Prince he had been a boy of ten, with a voice that tended to crack at inopportune moments and a desperate longing to grow in height.  Now he stood a hair taller than her father, his shoulders broad with long, lean limbs.  His silver hair, which had been shoulder length at their last meeting now cascaded down his back, with a few errant curls hooking around his shoulders.  He still had, Allura was amused to see, that one stubborn forelock that refused to be tamed, front and center as it arched down towards his face in defiance.  His face had lost all the roundness of childhood, his jawline and cheekbones now as sharp as the look in his eyes. 

“Aflor,” Zarkon said, “You remember my son, Prince Lotor.” 

“King Alfor.” The Crown Prince made to bow to her father before he was stopped short.

“None of that, son.” Alfor admonished, instead he took the younger man’s arm in his, gripping his forearm as he had done Zarkon’s earlier in a warrior’s greeting.  “Stars above, when did you get so tall?”

“I’m reassured that someone thinks I’m tall.” Lotor chuckled dryly, a sound that Allura found rather pleasing as he shot his father a pointed look.  The elder Galra shrugged it off.

“You are still rather short for a Galra of our lineage.”

After setting her drink aside Allura made her way over to the group of men, she noted with interest that Lotor’s armor was not of Galra design; it more closely resembled Altean flight suits and the armor the Paladins wore.  It was also, she realized, not in his father’s colors.  His armor was a mixture of grays, blues and orange; a rather unique combination of colors to be sure, and for some reason it struck a cord within her, reminding her of something that she could not quite place.

“I do apologize for my tardiness,” Lotor said, his voice drawing Allura from her ruminations over his armor, “I was delayed by some technical difficulties.”

“Technical difficulties?” Zarkon scoffed “I’m telling you, that ship is a death trap.”

“It is a work in progress, there are bound to be a few technical bugs to work out.”  Lotor rebutted.  Allura could tell by his tone that this was not the first time they have had this conversation.

“You are working on a ship?”  Allura couldn’t help but interrupt, drawing their attention to her.  Allura thought she saw Lotor’s eyes widen fractionally before he schooled his features into polite interest.  Suddenly realizing that she hadn’t been properly introduced in to the conversation, she took the initiative to present herself.

“Prince Lotor,” She dropped into a shallow curtsy; not as deep as the one she had presented to his father as she and Lotor were technically equals.  She was surprised when, instead of bowing to her as Galra tradition dictated, he reached out and gently grasped her hand.  Allura blinked at the size of his hand dwarfing hers, unthinkingly allowing him to draw their joined hands forward and up.  He bowed over her hand, brushing his forehead against her knuckles.

A formal Altean greeting.  How…unexpected.

“Welcome to Daibazaal, Princess Allura.”  He murmured, his gold and blue gaze meeting hers as he straightened once more.  She wasn’t blushing.  She _wasn’t_.  However she would be lying if she said that she didn’t like the way he said her name.  They stood there for a moment, her hand still held in his until-

“Yes,” Allura suddenly snapped her hand away in realization once her father’s voice broke the moment as he addressed Lotor. “You’re father was telling me that you designed a ship?”

“It is actually one that I first designed some time ago,” Lotor explained.  “When I have had time, I’ve been fine tuning the concept and have only recently had the chance to actually build it.”

“It’s not that one you showed me years ago, is it?”  Allura smiled fondly at her father’s tone, the light in his eyes.  Alfor was an engineer at heart; give him a design to work on and he would be content for whole movements.  “The fighter?  With independently controlled wings?”

Lotor, Allura was sure, _was_ blushing slightly.  If nothing else there was most definitely a darker flush to the tips of his long ears.  There was a small smile on his face as he reached across his torso and gripped his right arm, just below the elbow, with his other hand.  Allura hid a smile of her own behind her hand; she recognized the gesture from when they were children.  At the time it had been reserved for moments when he was unsure.  Or embarrassed.

“Yes.  It is the same one.  Although I hope greatly improved from the drawings you saw when I was ten.”

“I still say that it is foolish.”  Zarkon broke in.  “The reflexes and coordination needed to successfully fly such a ship are impossible.”

“But the maneuverability of such a ship would be unmatched.”  Lotor retorted, “I could practically dance around other ships on a battlefield and use their own inadaptability against them.”  Zarkon scoffed once more.

“I can only hope that you get all of this “dancing” out of your system tomorrow and can return to the world of common sense.”  Allura perked up at that.

“Is there dancing?”  She asked, curiosity about the Unalt Gal festival the following day peaking.  She had done what research she could, but sadly there had been very little for her to find.

“Some.” Lotor nodded, “However it isn’t dancing in the same way that it is on Altea.  This is…” he paused, searching for words.  “What you will see tomorrow evening is more symbolic in nature and less ballroom dancing.”

“So, what all will happen tomorrow?  I couldn’t find much information before our departure.”  She asked, happy to finally have someone to feed her curiosity. Zarkon responded first.

“During the day there will be many events happening within the city proper – there will be some skits and other performances; a great many vendors have traveled here for the day to sell their wares to the large crowds.”

“The festivities that take place during the day are vastly similar to our regular Vernal Equanox celebrations.  Mostly various practices and rituals that symbolize the renewing of oneself even as the planet renews around you.”  Lotor added.

“That sounds like it could be quite fun for you Allura.” Alfor declared up, to which Allura nodded eagerly.

“If you would like, I can escort you around the city Princess.”  Lotor offered kindly.  Allura felt something flutter inside her.

“Thank you.  I would like that very much.” She replied just before Zarkon continued his explanation.

“Just before sundown there will be the feast, followed by the main ceremony of the evening.”  Allura could swear there was a note of fondness in Zarkon’s tone.  “The Archivist will speak during this time while there is a reenactment of the events that we are honoring.  There will be shouting, mock battles, flaming swords, spouse stealing-”

Coran made a chocking noise from somewhere in the back of the room.  Allura and her father cast surprised looks at each other.

“No one is actually stolen.” Lotor spoke up quickly, scowling at his father as he tried to assuage their worries.  “Part of the ceremony commemorates the joining of two of the larger clans of the Galra people.  Centuries before they were all officially unified.  During that time period it would have involved spouse stealing.  So during the reenactments, there will be some of the actors that go in to the crowd and “steal” a member of the audience.  It is usually a loved one or close companion with whom they have planned it out in advance with.  Although some Galra actually use the event as a cover to ask someone they are interested in pursuing if they may “steal” them for the evening.  As for what happens after someone is “stolen”, well… you can most likely guess.”

“Will you be stealing anyone?”  Alfor gently teased the Prince.

“Ah, no.”  Lotor smiled, but Allura could see an edge to it and when he spoke again, there was a strange inflection to his tone.  “It would be unseemly for the Crown Prince to be seen…” he cast his father a withering look.  “What were the words you used?  Cavorting with someone beneath my station?”

“You are the Heir to the Galra throne.”  Zarkon sounded as if he were saying this for the hundredth time as he scowled at his son. “You are expected to be a model of exemplary behavior at all times.  Whether you are wearing a mask, or not.”

“I am well aware of the importance of the role I play tomorrow.” He responded before saying more quietly, “I am aware of all the roles I must play.” The last part was most likely to himself, but Allura was close enough to hear.

“You'll be wearing a mask?” She asked, attempting to change the subject and lighten the suddenly tense mood between the Daibazaal royals.  Lotor shot her a grateful glance.

“Yes.  Most of the actors are nameless extras, but there are specific named roles during the reenactments.  Those individuals will be wearing some rather elaborate masks.  It is-”

“A way to symbolize the actor taking on the persona of the historical figure?” she interrupted, intrigued and then delighted when he nodded with a smile.  “I’ve seen this in other cultures, but I had no idea that the Galra carried that tradition as well!  Oh this is so fascinating!  I wish I could participate; what fun it would be!”

“Oh Princess,” Lotor murmured lowly, his tone causing her pause.  Allura blinked up at him, noting a very pleased grin on his face.  “Tomorrow is Unalt Gal.  Who knows could happen.”

She opened her mouth, intending to ask what he meant when a new voice interrupted her.

“Emperor Zarkon.”  A Galra soldier stood at the entryway, hand fisted over his chest in salute as he waited permission to speak further.

“What is it?” The Emperor responded curtly.

“Sire, the Archivist has arrived from Feyiv and wishes to speak with you.”

“Ah, good.  I need to speak with him as well; inform him that I will be with him momentarily.”  Zarkon turned back to them as the soldier saluted once more before scurrying off to relay the message to the Archivist.  Allura had heard of the fabled knowledge-keeper, but she had never seen him and now found herself curiouser still.

“I must take my leave Alfor.  If you have need of anything, just let one of the servants know.”

“Of course!  Thank you Zarkon and good evening to you.” Alfor replied.

“To you as well.  And you!” Zarkon pointed at his son.  “I believe you have some preparations you must take part in this evening.”

“Yes father.”  Lotor sighed.

 “Off with you then.” The Emperor’s tone said that the order was not to be questioned.

Lotor scowled, but did not argue.  Instead he turned to the Alteans and to bid them a good evening.  Alfor once against gripped Lotor’s arm, this time clapping him on the shoulder as well.

“Good luck with tomorrow’s performance, Lotor.  I’m sure everything will go well!”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”  Lotor thanked him before he turned to Allura.  “Princess, if you still wish for my company tomorrow, how about we met here after you have had your breakfast?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you!  I look forward to it.” She replied with a smile, pointedly ignoring the butterflies swarming in her stomach.

He smiled at her once more before he took his leave, following his father from the room. 

Allura couldn’t quite help her lingering gaze as she watched him walk away; the long stride of his legs, the way his hair swayed with each step.  All while in her mind she could still see his pleased smirk and hear his voice:  
  
_“Tomorrow is Unalt Gal.  Who knows what could happen.”_

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of talking in this chapter, I know, but I promise things will pick up in the next chapter. Please let me know if you all liked this! I live off of feedback!


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